Caroline's Naked Ride

After a few hundred metres, the ride turned in at a car park, and riders began dismounting. Some locked their bikes to railings or fences, which quickly filled up, while others, including the girls, pushed their bikes along the walkway. They passed a small building where mostly naked men and women were queuing for the loos, while others queued for ice cream from a nearby van. Most kept going a little further until the walkway ended and a few steps led down onto the pebbly beach, and a long stream of people, many still pushing bikes, trailed along the pebbles toward the sea.

"What's this?" Caroline asked a couple who were standing by the steps.

"The nude beach. Time to relax and unwind," they replied.

"Nude beach? You must be kidding," said Prudence. "I'm not going there."

"It's OK, Prudence, it's clothing optional," reassured Becky. "Anyway, you're already dressed for the beach," she added reproachfully. "Look -- I brought a beach picnic." Becky opened her pannier to reveal three large beach towels, snacks and two bottles of wine.

"You knew about this?" asked Caroline. "I can't believe you didn't say anything."

"Yeah, well, you know what Miss Daring here would have said. Anyway, I've heard about this beach ever since we moved to Brighton a year ago but I've never had the guts to visit. There was no way I was going by myself, and old Prudence here ..."

"Stop blaming me for everything," protested Prudence, "and I'm not old. Anyway, you've got plenty of company today," she continued, gesturing towards the hundreds of cyclists, "and I guess it won't be any worse than cycling with them through the streets. We might as well hit the beach. You'll fit right in with the rest of the weirdos."

With that, they joined the trailing cyclists and made their way to the beach. They passed several of the people they had chatted to during the ride, including Beth and Mary, who were already sitting near the shoreline, lying back on their elbows and looking out at the sea.

"Hey, did you two have a good ride" asked Caroline.

"One of the best ever," replied Beth. "Glad to see one of you joining in a bit."

Becky started to protest and splutter an explanation, but Beth cut her off saying, "Don't worry. You girls are fine, and it's better to have you in underwear than not at all. There are a couple of girls who were real regulars here and on some other rides. They were totally fine being naked and didn't mind the cameras. But then they found out there was a whole page dedicated to them on some voyeur photo website, which even gave their names. That really freaked them out and they stopped coming. Anyway, you're not alone." The girls were reassured to see that there were indeed still quite a number of women (and a few men) in their underwear or bathing costumes. They did not want to intrude on Beth and Mary, so they continued a little further to find an empty space.

After laying their bikes down, Becky got out the beach towels and the three girls spread them out and made themselves as comfortable as possible on the pebbles. Everyone around was smiling and chatting, as usual not showing any sign of concern or even noticing whether their groups were all naked, mixed naked and clothed, men or women. The girls were somewhat surprised and a little concerned, though, to see that many of the women who had been cycling in knickers like Caroline and Becky or bikinis like Prudence were now peeling them off and scurrying into the water naked. Many of them had noticeable tan lines, suggesting that running around naked outdoors was not a regular pastime. More and more were going in for a swim, and there were soon hundreds splashing about happily.

Caroline suddenly realised that she had not applied sunscreen to all of the skin that was now bare, and even though it was now late afternoon she thought she needed to apply more. She felt extremely self-conscious, so, as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, she slapped some on and rubbed it into her pale white breasts. It felt particularly pleasurable to rub it into her nipples -- but it was embarrassing to do so in plain view.

The girls also noticed that not all of the women stripped off. Some just went into the water in their knickers and bras (except those who, like Caroline, were only in knickers to begin with). Caroline wanted to swim, but she was mulling whether she could bring herself to shed her last remaining item of clothing. She was still worried what Becky and Prudence would think, so she tried to elicit their thoughts.

"So, anyone for a swim?" she asked her friends. Prudence just shrugged and started to get up, of course still in her bikini.

Becky stayed put. She just looked at Caroline and asked, "Surely you're not taking your knickers off, are you?" Caroline was disappointed. If Becky had dared her to do it, or even if her tone had sounded a bit more encouraging, she would have pulled her knickers off in an instant. As it was, she thought she heard something mildly disapproving in Becky's tone.

"No, I guess I'll leave my knickers on. It seems fine to swim in underwear. Are you coming in?"

"No way," said Becky. "These are my best bra and knickers. I'm not ruining them in seawater. You two have fun while I guard our things." Caroline looked disappointed that the supposedly impetuous Becky was being so hesitant. Becky noticed Caroline's reaction and, after a brief pause, said, "I will join you this far at least." With that she sat up, crossed her legs Indian style, and reached behind her back with one hand, stretching the other across her sexy red bra. She undid the clasp and slipped it off, keeping her arm firmly across her breasts and blushing deep red.

It did not take long for Becky to realise that she looked rather ridiculous awkwardly covering her breasts. She was surrounded by hundreds of mostly naked people who were neither paying attention to her nor at all likely to take any notice let alone offense if she took her arm away. In fact, she realised, she was more likely to draw attention to herself by seeming coy or embarrassed, so, looking Caroline in the eye, she slowly lowered her arm and planted both palms on her towel.

Caroline beamed a smile of approval and thanks, then took Prudence by the hand and led her down to the water. It was difficult picking their way across the large pebbles, and finding a safe foothold was especially difficult in the water. Caroline felt rather awkward teetering like that, especially as she was only wearing knickers, so as soon as the water was deep enough she plunged forward and swam free.

If the unaccustomed feeling of sunshine and fresh air on her bare breasts was wonderful, the feeling of the water on them was incredible. Caroline swam out as far as she could before turning back to see Prudence still knee-deep, picking her way forward across the pebbly bottom. She swam back in until her feet found the bottom again and then stood and waved to Prudence. Prudence stopped and gaped to see just the top half of Caroline's torso sticking out of the water, which came to just below Caroline's bare chest. As the sea rippled and flowed, it would lap across her breasts, covering them for a moment before falling away. Caroline just stood there, waving and smiling the biggest smile Prudence had ever seen her with. At that moment, Prudence went from feeling embarrassed to be with a topless friend (after all, it did seem a bit ridiculous to remain embarrassed by that, given what was all around her), to feeling glad her friend was obviously so happy. She even wished she could feel that happy herself, though taking her own top off seemed the last way to achieve it.

For twenty minutes, the two girls swam together, happily chatting away as Prudence became increasingly relaxed, before they realised they ought to get back to Becky, who had been sitting alone and topless all that time. Picking their way out of the water across the pebbles was even more difficult than going in, but if Caroline was more aware of her semi-nudity as she teetered back the other way while facing everyone on the beach, she didn't show it. As soon as she had a firm footing on dry land, she stood up tall. She was surprised to notice that Becky was nowhere to be seen at their beach towels. She and Prudence made their way there and scanned the crowded strand in vain for a minute until they spotted Becky, still just wearing her scarlet knickers, walking slowly towards them (running across the pebbles was not really possible with bare feet) and smiling broadly.

"I've just been over there talking to Beth and Mary," she called out as soon as she was near enough, "and you wouldn't believe what they told me ..." Then she stopped dead in her tracks and gasped, "Caroline, your ... your ..." She waited until she was right next to Caroline and Prudence so she wouldn't be overheard. "Your knickers are transparent!"

Caroline looked down and saw that indeed her wet knickers were clinging to her and were, if not completely transparent, certainly more so than they had been. She realised, though, that she found this more exciting than alarming.

"Oh, they're not that bad, as if it makes any difference anyway," she said calmly.

"But you can see your pubes!" whispered Prudence. Although the girls had noted before that Caroline's pubic hair was faintly discernible through her lacy knickers when dry, the effect of the wetness was both that her knickers became semi-transparent and that her sandy-blonde pubic hair was noticeably darker. Even from a considerable distance, it was indeed possible to make out a dark triangle through the wet fabric.

"Well, I still don't see what the big deal is. It just means people will know ... Shock! ... Horror! ... that I have pubic hair. So what? So does everyone else."

Becky raised her eyebrows and cast her eyes around the crowd, and Caroline picked up on her point right away. "OK, so many of the people here DON'T have pubic hair any more. The point is, look at those who do." Caroline looked around to find a woman with a full bush of public hair. She gestured discreetly to a young woman five metres away who was standing and talking to a man in briefs. The woman's bush was not particularly thick or overgrown -- in fact it looked to be trimmed tidily at the edges -- but nonetheless it looked natural and normal (whatever that meant any more). "So look at her -- but don't make it obvious. All you can see is a dark triangle of hair. Big whoop. Behind it is a fanny. But the same could be said for Prudence's bikini or any other clothes for that matter. Other than highlighting where that fanny is, as if we didn't know, her bush hides it as effectively as any clothes. There is no chance anyone could actually see her fanny unless she did a cartwheel."

Becky laughed at this thought. Caroline was aware, of course, from noticing it all afternoon and thinking a great deal about it, that there were other movements short of cartwheels that might show fleeting views of a woman's genitals in more detail, and she was also aware that her own pubic hair was lighter in colour and more sparse than this woman's, but she still felt the general point was valid. Just because a woman is naked did not mean her sexual parts are on display. "Compared to some of these women with little or no public hair, a woman who just shows that she has hair looks positively modest!" Caroline was also starting to think a great deal about whether or not it was a big deal even if her sexual parts were on display, but she didn't think Becky was ready to think about that yet.

Becky took the point, at least for the time being, and the girls settled down to enjoy the lovely evening, eating, sipping wine and chatting amongst themselves and with others around them. Several more times, Caroline and Prudence went in for a dip while Becky kept her knickers dry, but she and Caroline did stay topless for the rest of their time.

Eventually, as the sun set and the light began to fade and the crowd on the beach thinned out, Caroline realised she had to go to catch her train. With a sigh, she pulled her T-shirt out of her pannier and pulled it over her head. She then realised that although her bare torso had dried quickly in the air, her knickers were still damp from her last dip in the sea. Not wanting sit on a train with clammy, wet knickers all the way back to London, she stood up, hooked her thumbs into the lacy waistband and nonchalantly pulled them down and kicked them aside.

As she stood up, her T-shirt did not reach down quite far enough to cover all of her essentials. At the back, it was long enough that it might have covered the top half of her cheeks, but in fact it was resting on her hips and not covering them at all. At the front, it only covered half of Caroline's sandy-blonde pubic hair, now drier but still slightly damp. Beneath the hem and through the wispy light hair, Becky and Prudence, who were still sitting looking up at her, had a clear view of her labia minora sticking out between her outer lips.

Having studied the subject all afternoon, Caroline was fully aware of exactly what Becky and Prudence could see, but she was trying to make a point. (And, she realised, it was sort of fun.) Prudence just stared in astonishment, as Becky spluttered ... "But ... but ..."

"Relax," said Caroline. "Now stand up." They did. "What can you see now?"

Becky realised that standing a few feet away, she could no longer see anything under the hem of Caroline's T-shirt. She also realised that she wouldn't see much more standing at a greater distance with her eyes at normal eye-level. It still didn't seem right, though.

Caroline bent over, fished out her shorts and wiggled them on. With hugs all around, the girls said their good-byes, promising to meet again soon, and Caroline walked her bike back across the beach as the others gathered their things to make their own way home.

CHAPTER THREE -- A MAD IDEA

_A

s Caroline's train neared Victoria Station, she still didn't know what to make of her experience that day. She had clearly enjoyed it, but she couldn't single out a reason why. Of course she had enjoyed promoting a good cause, and cycling about on a beautiful day had been great -- but what to make of all the nudity? She had enjoyed that too, but was it watching others or actually stripping down herself? First, as for seeing others naked, she was of course fascinated by the men. It's not that she found it sexually stimulating in itself -- but why, then was it so obvious to her and the man sitting opposite that her nipples were standing to attention under her thin T-shirt?

Of course there was the novelty of seeing so many different penises -- cocks and balls -- having experience only of Mike's. She couldn't believe how many different sizes and shapes there were. Most of them, she had to admit, she did not find attractive at all to look at. But a few of them ... mmm, she was still thinking about them. She could not help wondering how big they got and ... what they felt like. On balance, though, it did not feel particularly sexy looking at naked men, though it did inspire some thoughts of a sexual nature.

The naked women were another matter. Caroline was not at all sexually attracted by them, but she was also utterly fascinated to see them all. It wasn't seeing the variety in their appearance; she knew perfectly well how women's sex organs varied in size and prominence of labia and clitoral hoods, and she had seen all permutations of shaving and trimming in the showers at the gym, though she had never seen bright pink pubic hair before today. And of course she had seen breasts in all shapes and sizes before. What fascinated her about the women was the unsuspected ways the most intimate details of a vulva might be completely hidden by a bicycle seat (or not), and especially how different but perfectly ordinary and innocent movements on a bicycle might suddenly expose a hidden part -- albeit sometimes only for an instant.

On the beach, too, she'd noticed a couple of girls about age. Having come in from a quick naked swim, they sat in a way that suggested they were still shy about showing their bodies -- with their knees up, leaning forward with their arms wrapped around their knees and their breasts pressed against them. Caroline supposed that this posture was to hide their bare breasts from view, but then she noticed (as certainly did every man sitting or passing nearby) that this position not only exposed each girl's entire vulva, but neatly framed it between her upper thighs and the space made by the tapering of her calves to her ankles. Anyone approaching from the water or sitting nearby to the side could see.

Caroline's thoughts had run wild when she saw them: Do these girls suppose that their legs are shielding their privates from view? They must feel the flow of the sea breeze on them, though. Perhaps they're just sitting that way for warmth after swimming. Do they just think that their ankles block the view? Is it possible they know exactly what's on view but don't care? She noticed that a few women tried to cover their breasts when walking on the beach but made no effort to hide their genitals, even if they were clean-shaven and completely exposed. Caroline could not understand this as she was much more afraid of exposing her sex than her breasts. She didn't think she could ever sit like that on the beach, but if she had not seen the other girls she was pretty sure she would have had no idea what she was showing. Whether they were aware or not, Caroline knew that she would have to be careful if she ever sat like that.

Caroline wasn't turned on by seeing these unintentional (or even intentional) acts of exposure -- at least, she wasn't turned on by seeing another woman's most private parts. But it made her think about what it meant for herself. What would she be exposing if she weren't wearing knickers? How would it feel to expose parts of her no man except Mike and her doctor had seen? She couldn't let go of this nagging curiosity, and a large part of her wished she had had the courage to try it and find out. She admired the women who had been brave enough to bare all, even -- or perhaps especially -- those whose posture and tan lines suggested they were still shy about too much public exposure, and she was really annoyed with herself for chickening out. She vowed she would definitely do the ride again in the altogether ... next year. A year away. That seemed so long. She cursed herself for wasting the opportunity and wondered how she could wait.

By now, her train had arrived. She and the man opposite her both retrieved their bikes and went off in opposite directions at the ticket barriers. With her head still turning over all these thoughts, Caroline walked her bike across the busy road next to the station and headed toward the quiet backstreet she usually took on her daily bicycle commute. She came across a quiet little square and turned in just to give herself some peace and quiet in which to collect herself. She was struck by how deserted the square was. There was only one man a short distance away smoking a cigarette. The side streets were also deserted. Caroline usually went this way during the busy morning and evening commute hours, but it was now nearly ten o'clock on a Sunday night, and practically no one was about.

She noticed that her bike was still covered in WNBR posters and the green seat cover. Oh my god, she thought. What if the other cyclist on the train noticed them? No, there is nothing to be ashamed of in the ride, she reminded herself, especially to another cyclist. Far from it. Anything to promote cycle safety and remind the public how invisible cyclists usually are is a good thing.

Suddenly, she had an idea that was so mad she tried to dismiss it right off -- but it wouldn't go away. She tried to imagine how few people were likely to see her on her ride home at this hour -- possibly even none. Could she ...? Was she just still affected by all the wine on the beach with her friends? The smoker was looking over at her now and again, so she began to fiddle in her pannier to give herself something to do, and to seem to have a reason for loitering. She saw her still damp knickers wadded up in the bottom of her pannier and remembered she was only wearing two things besides shoes and helmet. Could she ...? She got out her lights and adjusted them on her bike, for longer than was necessary. Eventually, the smoker stubbed out his cigarette and disappeared around the corner. This was it. The moment of decision. Could she? Would she?